5 Easy Steps to Redecorate Your Living Room
by oftimeandspace
Summary: In which the trio tackles home decor in their own unique way.


5 Easy Steps to Redecorate Your Living Room

1. Assess your current décor.

George is lying in bed trying to sleep and failing, mostly because he is too busy listing reasons for why decorating a child's room with happy wizened gnome wallpaper is a bad idea. He has just finished reason 14 (because he's relatively sure either Disney or Orbitz barristers are going to burst into his room any day now and start babbling about image trademarks) when the smoke alarm begins to shriek.

He nearly falls out of bed trying to untangle himself from his sheets, and then bounces off of Mitchell on the landing, both bolting down the stairs to stop, openmouthed and staring in amazement at the tableau of Annie flailing about confusedly, trying to put out a fire that is concentrated mostly on the couch and the area around it.

"What did you _do_?" George shrieks, voice escalating into pure high-pitched confusion. "Were you trying to terrify the dustbunnies out of the room?"

"George!" Annie shrieks, now using a hideously neon yellow afghan to beat the small flames licking across the surface of the coffee table, "can we just not be snarky towards each other right now and focus on putting this out?"

Mitchell shoves past George, sprints into the kitchen and grabs the half-forgotten fire extinguisher that came with the place, and sprints back into the living room. After a few seconds of tugging on various bits on the device he manages to decode the barely decipherable instructions and aim the resulting foam at the fire, barely avoiding Annie before she pops out of the way.

The fire goes out with a hiss that sounds oddly disappointed and sends wisps of smoke eddying throughout the room. George coughs, pauses to clean his glasses, and picks up the coughing fit where he left off.

"Annie," Mitchell begins, waves the fire extinguisher for emphasis, and stops abruptly, realizing how mad he looks. "You tried to move the couch, didn't you?"

Annie's eyes slide away from him guiltily, and she smoothes the blanket in her hands compulsively, placing it on the charred back of the couch. "I was doing so well! Honest, I didn't know that'd happen."

George groans, rubs the bridge of his nose, and wishes, not for the first time, that his flatmates were slightly more normal.

2. Plan a budget and stick to it.

"Right," George says, hunched over a chipped mug of tea at the kitchen table. "The couch is ruined, the table is half-charred, and we've smoke stains on the ceiling and half the walls."

"I loved that couch," Mitchell sighs, staring morosely into the black depths of his coffee.

Annie sets down a plate of fresh scones and slides into the remaining chair at the table, babbling another volley of apologies. Mitchell waves her off and continues staring into his drink.

"So we need new furniture, and I highly doubt any of us have the money for it."

Annie brightens a bit. "I had a decent amount in my savings.-" Here her face crumples again. "But I'd imagine they don't really let ghosts walk in to the corner bank and withdraw from a two year old account, do they?"

George turns to Mitchell, who looks up, takes a sip of coffee, and says, "I had a few grand."

Annie and George blink at him, amazed. "Did you get it by glamouring people?" Annie asks, having watched too much illegally downloaded _True Blood_ in the past few weeks.

Mitchell snorts with laughter. "Nah, had a brilliant tax guy."

"What happened to the money?"

"Herrick got ahold of it."

At this the other two nod sagely and file this information away for later musing on the foibles of vampire backstabbing.

"So…we have no money in savings." George states after a bit of thinking and looks at the other two, who nod. For a few minutes they look at each other, the only sound in the kitchen the ticking of a battered clock on the wall.

"Dammit," Mitchell sighs finally, the long suffering sigh of a man who has suffered thirty years of Swedish oppression, and goes in search of the Ikea catalog.

Do things yourself to cut down on costs.

"This is brilliant." Annie says happily, leaning forward to poke her head between the boys shoulders to look at the couch they're staring at in confusion.

"How does it look so big in the catalog?" George asks, tilting his head.

"An act of God?" Annie replies, and tugs their shirts, pulling them away from it. "I told you I studied interior design in college, yeah?"

She stops a few aisles down in front of a leather couch that is almost like their old one. "Return stock. Much cheaper than that piece of rubbish you were looking at back there."

She looks at them, triumphant grin firmly in place. George looks contemplative, while Mitchell just looks like he is trying to quietly figure out a way to get out of the store before George tackles him and drags him over to the restaurant for leftover Swedish meatballs. "This, paint one of those returned coffee tables, a bit of fabric on some frames, and the living room will look atleast twice as good."

George and Mitchell shrug, bowing before the whirlwind that is Annie on a domestic escapade. Annie clasps her hands together once, starts babbling about warm grays versus cool grays and paint finishes, and leads them towards the nearest clerk.

"Bad idea?" Mitchell asks while Annie gushes to the bemused clerk, excited about shopping and feeling like she's normal again.

"It could've been worse. She could have set our beds on fire while we were in them."

Mitchell laughs.

4. Follow instructions, work together, and remember to have fun.

The half assembled table collapses with a groan, making Mitchell hiss in pain and let out a string of the more colorful curses he has picked up in the last century when the top lands on his outstretched hand. From the living room Annie calls, "Are you alright?"

Mitchell looks down at his injured hand, skin mottled red and white, blood welling up starkly in a fine line on one finger. His eyes blacken and instinctively he takes a taste of the blood, sweet and almost blissfully right. He shivers and stuffs his hand under his shirt, hiding it form himself. "I'm fine." He replies, proud at the way his voice is strong and without tremor.

This is right, cursing at shitty flatpack furniture with barely legible instructions, and laughing with your mates over pizza because you all have paint splashed across your face or your hands or in your hair. It has to be, it just has to be enough, Mitchell tells himself, fervently believing this despite the coiled tension in his muscles and bones and heart that still cry for the singing rush of another person's life against his teeth.

He throws the crumpled instructions at George when he passes through the entryway with a can of paint and a stepstool under one arm. George huffs and bats the paper away from him, muttering something about the immaturity of immortality.

Mitchell grins and returns to his task.

5. Enjoy. You've turned that drab room into a place you can call home!

Mitchell changes the channel, stopping on a _Doctor Who_ rerun.

"Seen it." George mumbles halfheartedly, slumped down so low on the couch that Mitchell is amazed he's still actually on it, eyes barely open behind his crooked glasses.

"Yeah, and it's not even a good episode anyway."

Mitchell shrugs and flips through another few channels, finally landing on a late night sitcom. Someone on screen babbles some gibberish in something he vaguely recognizes as Welsh and cues a laugh track.

"I think this is the one where Sally finds out her husband's been cheating on her." Annie states, leaning down to hand Mitchell another beer from the cooler near her feet.

"Cheers."

A blond woman on screen shrieks and begins crying, wailing at the man in front of her. Annie lets out a triumphant 'hah!" and starts making up her own dialogue, an endeavor Mitchell quickly joins in on, their repartee quickly sliding into straight absurdity.

"But Richard, what about our All-Britain Best Yard Champion Title? How could you turn your back on all our trophies and pick up with that trollop with the weedy yard?!"

"Her roses were twice as big as yours, my faded flower!" Mitchell wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and gives Annie a crooked grin when she doubles up with laughter, unable to go on.

Beside them George sighs and turns his face away, planting one cheek firmly against the leather of the couch and slumbers on.

Afterwards they all agree that, as far as room décor goes, their new room is quite nice.

Well, once the smell of smoke fades.


End file.
